Many Are Cold, but Few Are Frozen

I went to the supermarket for the first time this summer. My wife and kids are due back next week, and there's almost nothing to eat in our kitchen. I sent her a desperate text message, hoping she'd send me back a list. But my phone was silent.

I pushed my shopping cart down every aisle, looking at every item, trying to remember, and decide, decide, decide. My mind grew tired from all the thinking. It was like trying to remember a dream. There were impressions, but nothing solid.

I remembered the Russian milk, the sour cream, the butter. Juice. Some apples. Pasta, in various shapes. Honey. A pricey hunk of Swiss cheese. Eggs.

I didn't buy any meat; that's too complicated. Tomorrow I'll go to the little Russian shop and buy young chicken (not sure how to say that properly in English) and some frozen salmon.

I know I'm forgetting things, important things. But at least they won't starve when they arrive.